GOD'S BREATH

A YOUNG MAN FILLED WITH INBORN CHARISMA BRINGS LIFE INTO A DEJECTED PROVINCE

Listen. The aura that surrounds every living man has for ages never been an intrinsically fated nature. It has and will forever be artificial, though specific. We all breath in the same air, but the assortment of exhalations we project is quite a wonder by its variety. We all are circumvented and in the same allusion squared by similar forces of mother nature, but the energy that arrays out of persons shall remain incongruent in dimension and magnitude.


Now when God breaths, the void is beaten into form and even the abyss of zero luminosity is embarrassed by the light now existent from nowhere. When God breaths, a valley of dead dry bones is transfigured into a valley, full of a great army. When God breaths order in the universe is sustained, the forces of nature are balanced and an equilibrium of strongly raging tectonic wrangles is struck and calm is restored. When God breaths, thunder claps are silenced and storms beguiled into a gayish slumber.


Not so much beyond the reminiscent past nor so near to the times of pubescent teenagers, a modern city had has its occupants a young man of almost a similar tenacity, though to the same capacity. The most avid way of telling of his tales would be to simply repeat his names severally to the listener until it were clear enough to them the message of Phine Has Balls. Thinking about it, the fruition that hanged therein between the limbs of this young lad might have suffered much gravity judging by how indifference in nature he was.

Phinehas had grown up a skinny lad with a constant sly look graven on his face. Having been raised in the modern age, specifically in the information era, he was dipped and lost in the much technology that had penetrated the whole globe and together mashed up to blend with the diversities of even the most indigenous world cultures. Being the sixth in a family of eight children, time whisked by and no one ever noticed when and how he grew up.

As to whether he was outgoing or an introverted and disturbed soul, no one knew. As to whether he was a fighter or a whimsically timid fellow, no one fathomed. As to whether he was a hot deal and would flare up instantaneously or just still waters none seemed to care let alone know. For all they knew, he was never there. Or at least, he was keen enough never to appear anywhere in the picture. It is not a wonder that out of all the twenty five annual Christmas family photo-shoots he only did appear in one of which it was his badly burnt finger seemed to  remove a dead mosquito at the far end of the camera lens.

Once a year nature would have mercy on Phinehas, and the woman who so only remembered the difference and uniqueness of the labor pangs she had suffered on that year would remind the family of her son's birthday. No one at all ever thought, or ever planned to miss this day. Not for fear of what would happen in the event that they missed out, but because of all the birthdays, it always was the best. Everything was always in perfect order, the details of the party seemed to be handled with a perfect touch. Even the kind of the music to be played and at what time magically fitted in like a jig-saw puzzle with their emotions at that time.

Since age three, Phinehas had always insisted on planning his birthday alone. The very first time, his mother let him do it for the sheer fun of it. But after then, it was such mystic how the toddler had managed to pull the best of parties on his neighborhood. Funnily enough, the parties has since then to date been conducted in his absence. Everyone seemed to be involved and pre occupied with something to notice this. He would later show up, give a hilarious birthday speech and yet again disappear just never to be noticed until the following year, at about the same time.

With the passing of time, Phinehas became an enigma even unto himself. The cultural turbulences and the onslaughts that come with a rough teenage life of minimal attention had made his slightly malleable nature to be somewhat ductile and of rough, unpredictable cross-sections. He had metamorphosed into a young man no one would be willing to talk to let alone rub the wrong way for the fear of what would follow.

No one really had ever rubbed Phinehas the wrong way. Not even the most aggressive of his class mates had reached out to him. None of them had the papain in them,enough to tenderize the dense flesh of waving vigor that surrounded him. And so daily Phinehas had tried by himself to make it easier for the others. He for sure had never come to terms with what exactly made the world recent him. The universe seemed to be conspiring against him; with all its might to depress him. At times he felt a lesser of nature and stature but still manned up. It is for this reason that Phinehas too set out to conspire against the universe. He had a master plan. He was excited by its sight on the inscriptions he had mapped out in his room's wall.

 The thought of just fulfilling every plan of it made him breath out with a huge: and even to him the strength of the breath he noticed was far much greater than he.

(......to be continued....)